


putting the flowers to sleep

by jamesiee



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Autumn, Character(s) of Color, F/F, Fluff, Gardening, Women Loving Women, day 3: women of colour, omgcp women week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-31 21:19:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12141348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamesiee/pseuds/jamesiee
Summary: George sits back on her haunches and wipes the sweat from her brow, surveying the work she still has to do. The low afternoon sun doesn’t feel hot, but she’s been working hard since lunch time and is sure she’ll find new freckles later, so she bites open the water bottle she’s glad she brought out. The dirt from her hands turns the condensation on the bottle brown, and she wipes watery mud off her hands on her jeans before tucking some stray curls behind her ear.George enjoys a day off.(half inspired by @redporkpadthai's drawing of George and Rettaenjoying fall and half by my want of fall weather)





	putting the flowers to sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing: George/Margaret "Retta" (@[redporkpadthai's original female character](https://redporkpadthai.tumblr.com/post/165462031100/omgcpwomenweek-sunday-seasonal-activities-george))
> 
> Completely unbeta'd so any spelling or grammar mistakes are my own. 
> 
> For Day 3 of [OMGCheckPlease Women Week](https://omgcpwomen.tumblr.com/post/164669990232/omgcheckplease-women-week-september-17-23-2017): Women of Colour

George sits back on her haunches and wipes the sweat from her brow, surveying the work she still has to do. The low afternoon sun doesn’t feel hot, but she’s been working hard since lunch time and is sure she’ll find new freckles later, so she bites open the water bottle she’s glad she brought out. The dirt from her hands turns the condensation on the bottle brown, and she wipes watery mud off her hands on her jeans before tucking some stray curls behind her ear.

It’s summer’s last attempt to stay before Fall wraps itself around Providence and George had the day off while the team is travelling for their preseason games. Putting her garden to bed, making sure that her plants will last the winter, is relaxing in a way hard, monotonous tasks are and it’s exactly how George likes to spend her off days.

She’s already cut back her perennials, pruning the blackberry lily and catmint so that they don’t collapse under the first frost, and her and Retta had the mock funeral for the annuals (the snapdragons had been gorgeous this year and were particularly difficult to watch die) last weekend together so George just has to finish pulling them up and toss them into the growing pile of dead plants she has beside the garden. A trip to the compost pile would stretch out her legs, tight from crouching in the dirt for so long, so George stands and gathers everything she’s already pulled and pruned, mindful of the prickles hidden there.

Hands full, George nudges open the gate to the back yard with her ass. She hears music spilling out through the open window of the kitchen so after dropping off the load in the back corner, making sure the compost bin is sealed tight, and detours up the deck steps to lets herself in through the backdoor.

Retta’s standing over the sink washing vegetables for dinner. From the clean pile on the counter, George can easily tell which zuchinni came out of her garden; they’re half the size of the ones from the farmer’s market, but for a first attempt at vegetable patch, George is happy with them.

“Are you finished playing in the dirt?” Retta asks, turning off the water and turning around to face George. She dries her hands on the black and yellow Pens dish cloth that hangs from the stove, and leans her back against the counter, smiling. George is wearing her garden clothes, a ripped pair of oversized jeans that sit low on her hips and a Falcs t-shirt that’s so old the logo is cracked and peeling, but you would think she’s dressed up for the annual casino night based on the way Retta is looking at her.

“Not yet, “ George says. “Still wanna put the flowering bulbs in before the ground freezes and—”

“Plant a cover crop,” Retta says as George does, pushing off the counter and crossing the kitchen. She in front of George, close enough to push the hair that’s escaped George’s ponytail off her forehead. “Just like you say every year.” She traces along George’s jaw with her thumb, moving with the lilt of her words. Retta punctuates the statement by tapping George’s chin.

“Hey, this time I’m actually going to do it,” George protests, trying to catch Retta's fingers in her teeth, but they've been together so long that Retta knows what's coming and has moved to settle her hand on George's neck, gently tracing circles on the skin there. George always has good intentions in the fall but the beginning of the hockey season has a bad habit of getting in the way of how she takes care of her garden every time.

“Uh huh,” Retta says.

“I’m also going to organize the shed.”

“That I’ll believe when I see it.” Retta’s eyes crinkle when she smiles. She tugs gently at the curl she just pushed out of George’s face.

“Next day off, you’ll see,” George says, leaning into the touch

“Prove me wrong, lovey.” Retta stands on her tiptoes to kiss George’s forehead. “But get out of my kitchen until you’ve washed the dirt of your face.” She wipes her lips with her thumb, making a face when dirt and lipstick come off. She uses the hem of George’s shirt to wipe her hand.

George steals another kiss when Retta looks up again, grinning as she darts out onto the porch before Retta can retaliate. She’s not quite fast enough and Retta swats her ass.

“Go finish putting your plants to sleep, love,” Retta says, pulling the screen door shut. George takes a moment to appreciate how she’s framed by the doorway, the bright colours of her scarf a gorgeous contrast to her dark skin. She jumps when Retta knocks on the glass, but she doesn’t feel guilty to have been caught staring at her beautiful wife by her beautiful wife.

“I love you,” George says.

Retta rolls her eyes but is smiling widely. “I love you too, but I also want to have dinner with my wife, so go finish cleaning up!”

George blows a kiss and does as she’s told after Retta catches the kiss and blows one back.

A perfect day off.

**Author's Note:**

> My [tumblr](http://pongpalace.tumblr.com) if you wanna come hang out :)


End file.
